


Spring Awakening

by Asmicarus



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Nostalgia, Rebellion, Reflection, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9608783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asmicarus/pseuds/Asmicarus
Summary: When Yakov finds Yuri kissing Otabek in the changing rooms after the medal ceremony, he takes the time to think back over his life and his role as a father figure to Yuri and Viktor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Everyone! First fic for this fandom! I love Yakov and his hard outer shell and squishy inside, I hope I did him a bit of justice! I own none of these characters. If you see mistakes feel free to correct me, as this was written quite late at night! XD Also, do not be afraid to say hello, I do love a chat! You can find me on Tumblr as Asmicarus.
> 
> No characters are mine!
> 
> Enjoy! :D

Yakov would like to think in his old age that he’s had a successful and fulfilling life. In his younger years, (not that he liked to think back _that_ far), he was a champion figure skater, he was adored by the press, loved by the public, not bad with the ladies. It seemed back then he had it all, no responsibilities, no worries, no wrinkles. His younger years had been filled with non-stop parties, and drinking. Considering his wild youth, he was glad to say he didn’t have all that many regrets. Only two in his entire life in fact. The first of which being the steroid scandal that got him banned from skating as a competitor. He had been young and stupid, and in those days with the less advanced drugs tests, he’d really thought he could get away with it and win the worlds, but alas it was not to be after he’d been found with copious amounts of chemicals searing around his body. His country was ashamed their star had fallen. His saving grace had come in the form of his most successful pupil, five-time world champion, and the means that earned him the respect of his country back, Viktor Nikiforov. There came his second biggest regret… raising children. It wasn’t that he didn’t like children, or that he didn’t think they were wonderful miracles of nature, it was just that he always seemed to be stuck with problem children. He thought he’d finally caught wind of freedom when his Vitya struck fame, but as soon as he got a glimpse of having his own life back Yuri Plisetsky took over as problem number 1.

 

Thus, he found himself in this current predicament, dragging a seventeen-year-old Yuri Plisetsky through a crowded rink full of press, having horrible, horrible flashbacks of a rebellious young Viktor. Yuri was cussing up a storm, trying to free his thin wrist from Yakov’s iron grip. The whole situation had been blown wildly out of proportion. Yuri had disappeared after the medal ceremony ended, and Yakov was getting tired of him taking his time in the changing room to post pictures on his instant- gram, or whatever it was. He had naturally gone along to hurry him up, only to find him lip locked with the Kazakh skater, Otabek Altin in a far corner of the dimly lit room. He saw red and had immediately grabbed the boy by the hoodie and gave him a hard yank away from the other. Yuri had flailed and stumbled backwards as Yakov pulled him, and Yakov threw a warning to Altin to stay away and chaos set in from then on. So now they sat in the back of a cab taking them back to their hotel rooms, Yuri staring out the window sulking. Lilia had confiscated his phone immediately and would be giving Yuri a stern talking to about relationships with other skaters.

 

As Yakov looked on at Yuri, studied his long blond hair and narrowed green eyes, he couldn’t help but picture his Vitya. Yuri was so much like him in so many ways. Vitya’s parents had been pushy and wanted him to succeed at all costs, no matter it being at the expense of their only son, thus they thought it best to leave him with Yakov full time, and in a matter of an afternoon Yakov had another human being to care for. Vitya was a quiet little boy with impeccable talent. He was well mannered, polite and not to mention a once in a lifetime talent. Yakov thought he’d struck gold. It was when Vitya first graced the ice and the world began to take notice was when the shyness faded. He started to disobey Yakov more and more, going off to choreograph his own programs, doing ballet by himself, booking himself tabloid interviews and magazine shoots. Yakov could see he basked in the attention, but he knew the look of emptiness when he saw it. That was the look that led him to steroids and got him banned from the sport he loved so dearly. Viktor was done being the idyllic androgynous young man the magazines painted him as. He cut his hair, he hit the weights, slept around, was everything Yakov had told him not to be. It was only a matter of time before he hit a wall… until Yuuri Katsuki. Yakov had been furious. His star skater dropped absolutely everything to coach the Japanese train wreck, and of course, in true Viktor unpredictability, up and married the man.

 

His thoughts went back to Yuri, who had curled himself into a ball on the leather seat. He remembered a toddler with that head of blond hair coming to him at the rink. His mother practically beamed with pride when Yakov had seen potential and agreed to take him on. Yuri stayed with his grandfather while his mother left for the big city. Yuri had grown up in blissful ignorance of his mother’s profession on the street corners of Moscow. She loved him dearly and came to every competition she could, but money was tight, and more often than not a young Yuri would be sat looking disappointedly at the empty seat he had reserved for her at the side of the rink.

He had matured this competition season, had grown since his first Grand Prix series win. His temper had mellowed, if only slightly, but was going through the phase of wanting to become his own identity, and breaking away from being the media’s ‘fairy’, a nickname he despised so greatly. He wasn’t sure how long this Altin had been in the picture, but he did seem to have the bad boy persona Yuri strived for, a sense of danger, a bit of rebellion. Just like Viktor. Yakov couldn’t deal with it again, Viktor almost had him in his grave early.  

 

The cab pulled up at the hotel and Lilia stepped out the car with Yuri following close behind her, moodily dragging his obnoxious leopard suitcase behind him. Lilia took Yakov’s arm as they made their way to the foyer of the large hotel. As Yuri went ahead Lilia whispered harshly in his ear.

“Are you going to speak to him?” Yakov groaned.

“It’s your turn.” Lilia’s eyebrows raised high on her forehead.

“I thought we agreed you would talk to him about these things. You did it with Viktor.” Yakov spat his response.

“Exactly, and look how well that went.” Lilia rolled her eyes and dropped her arm from Yakov’s, her heels clicking on the marble floor as she walked away. She spoke over her shoulder.

“Speak to him after dinner, give him some time to cool off.”

 

The restaurant was high end and it was meant to be Lilia’s treat after competition, but Yakov had seriously been debating cancelling it after Yuri’s stunt today. Yuri sat on the opposite side of the mahogany table to Yakov and Lilia, a dangerous look in his eyes. It seemed the hour to cool off had done nothing to calm him. The chattering of voices echoed around them and waiters gracefully glided around with platters, as if they were the ones of ice. Yuri rested his elbows on the table, and Lilia was onto him quicker than Yakov could have scolded him himself.

“Yuri Plisetsky, mind your manners.” Yuri scowled and removed them from the surface. The tension grew to nigh unbearable, with Lilia and Yuri making passive aggressive comments across the table.

“Could you pass the salt?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Fattening.” Yuri growled, as if he actually were one of the big cats he adored so dearly. He ate in silence, this ’treat’ suddenly not feeling very pleasant at all. He peered around the room in boredom. His eyes narrowed to the corner of the room. Yakov snuck a look around.

 

On the opposite end of the dining hall sat Viktor and Yuuri looking lovingly into each other’s eyes. Viktor held Yuuri’s hand, elbows resting on the table, thumb stroking over the ring on his finger, Yuuri’s cheeks turning pink, a bottle of expensive wine between them. They looked so sickeningly loving that it wasn’t long before Yuri’s spoon began to bend at a right angle.

“Fucking disgusting.” He mumbled, straightening his spoon and taking a sip of his soup. Lilia sneered at the language. Yakov could feel himself riling at the boy, wanting so desperately to call out his double standards just as his did to a young Viktor. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut, knew he should have let Yuri just be a total hypocrite, but the words came out before he could stop them.

“That’s an oxymoron if ever I heard one.”

“What?” Yuri placed his spoon down with a bang and Lilia kicked Yakov’s shin under the table. Her stilettos digging into his skin. He ignored it.

“You call Vitya disgusting and yet you’re the one with your tongue down the Kazakh’s throat.” Yuri’s eyes widened and his face cascaded through a range of emotions before settling on the default anger. This anger was different, though. This anger stemmed from hurt.

“Don’t just call him that, he has a name.” Yakov knew that temper of Yuri’s stemmed from his own, but he couldn’t stop himself now.  

“I don’t care. You’ll stay away from him from now on, and that’s that.” Yuri flew from his seat and with a cold and wet splash, Yakov was covered in water and the whole of the restaurant, Viktor and Yuuri included, was staring at them in shock. Yuri yelled at the top of his lungs.

“You don’t know anything! This is exactly what you do! This is exactly how you fucked up Viktor, and I won’t let you do that to me!”

 

As soon as Viktor’s name was brought into the conversation Yakov winced, and Yuri knew he’d hit a nerve. He suddenly felt the eyes on him and he turned tail and ran. Lilia shot Yakov a disappointed look, the same one he’d gotten when they were still married, at least this time he wouldn’t have to pay alimony. He wiped the water from his eyes and sighed. The restaurant started to murmur and whisper at the outburst, but Yakov didn’t care. Lilia left the table in utter embarrassment, and he was alone, waiters around him to clean up the mess his protégé had created. He sat there for a few quiet moments, letting Yuri’s words resonate in his head.

_This is exactly how you fucked up Viktor, and I won’t let you do that to me!_

Yakov didn’t ask for this. He didn’t ask to raise two hormonal teenagers, or to feel like he’d let them down as a parent. He would never say it, but that feeling was worse than when he was dubbed Russia’s cheat, and had failed his entire country with his selfishness. He felt a warm hand hit his shoulder. He looked up to see the blue eyes he’d looked at so many times before. Viktor stood over him and his firm grip loosened.

“Let’s go for a walk.” Yakov didn’t have the strength for any more arguments tonight. He was fairly sure if he had another, his old heart would surely give out, and he hadn’t yet sorted the life insurance. Viktor helped his old coach stand and quickly placed a small kiss on his fiancé’s cheek, telling Yuuri quietly to meet him back at their room later.

 

The night was chilly as they walked to the wooden bench in the courtyard. The trees around them having lost their leaves and the grass frozen on the ground. They sat in silence, until Viktor crossed his legs and spoke without looking in his direction.

“So, what was that about then?” he asked, gently. Yakov didn’t want to talk about it, but made no further moves to prevent the imminent discussion arising.

“Yuri. I found him today kissing the Kazakh skater in the locker room.” Viktor nodded in understanding and leaned back on the bench.

“How did you react?”

“Of course I dragged him out of there! It was inappropriate behaviour! What if the board saw? What if the media caught wind of it? This rebellion was so sudden! What if he turned out like-“ Yakov quickly stopped himself, realizing his mistake. Viktor spoke quietly as he finished the sentence.

“Like me.”

 

It was awkward. It wasn’t as if Yakov wasn’t proud of Viktor, and not just hid skating achievements. He was proud of him for being a self-reliant man, a kind man, a man that will no doubt make the best husband to a deserving partner. How did he end up this good person from his teenage years when Yakov had raised him single handedly? At the time, Yakov blamed the lack of maternal figure, but obviously, it went deeper than that.

“Where did I go so wrong, Vitya? Why are all the ones I raise emotional and rebellious tyrants?” Viktor chuckled, burying his nose into the scarf he’d hastily put on over his tuxedo.

“It’s not entirely your fault, Yakov. It was a combination of many things, and factors that Yurio and I share. Not seeing our real parents a lot, training hard hours, having few close friends. However, if there was one overarching thing that causes or caused us to act the way we do, it’s because we love you and want your approval.” Yakov whipped his head to his former pupil, his Vitya. When had he grown so perceptive? Yakov looked towards him, and furrowed his brows. Viktor smiled in his direction, blue eyes softening in gentle understanding. Not expecting the old man to get it straight away.

“Yurio loves you. He wants your approval and your praise, so to see you not only reject Otabek, someone he’s interested in, but also to see you always compare him to me must have hurt.” Yakov nodded slowly, not quite believing what he was hearing. He had never considered that his skaters would want his praise and attention. He’d thought Yuri had acted like a brat to get back at him for being a tough coach.

“Do you want my advice?” Yakov smiled uncomfortably.

“No, but I’ll take it.” Viktor returned the smile far more easily.

“Start seeing Yuri Plisetsky, not your Vitya.” Yakov took the advice to ponder over. Viktor would make a far better father to someone else one day than he had ever done for him. Viktor stood up suddenly and made his way down the path in the direction to the doors inside.  

“Oh, and give Otabek a chance. He looks like a punk, but he’s a great guy at heart.”

 

 

Yakov took a few more contemplative moments in the bitter cold of the hotel courtyard, thinking over what Viktor had said, thinking on how he would make it up to Yuri. He stood from the bench, hissing as his back twanged, and made his way inside, along twisting corridors and narrow stairways to Yuri’s room, but not before stopping of at Lilia’s suite to grab Yuri’s phone from her nightstand. He reached Yuri’s door, he already had a keycard to his room in fear something like this would happen and Yuri would barricade himself in. He gripped the phone in his palm. It took him a while with all this damn technology, but he eventually found the number he was looking for and pressed ‘call’.

 

Yuri didn’t look around when the door swung open. He already knew who it was. He perched himself on the windowsill, looking down at the city below him. The lights of people’s windows illuminating the darkness of the night. He was trying so desperately to be angry at Yakov and ignore him out of spite, but the old man’s thick and loud voice rang through the room.

“Yes, hello, this is Yakov Feltsman, Yuri’s coach. I understand we had a bit of a misunderstanding this afternoon after the ceremony…” Yuri’s eyes glanced up and his head turned slowly, blonde hair trailing behind him. Surely he couldn’t be talking to…

“Yes. Otabek, isn’t it? Otabek Altin? I remember you as a boy, the most unenthusiastic ballet dancer I’ve seen in my life. So, you want to be with my Yuri, you dress sharply for eight tomorrow, take him for dinner in the hotel and have him home by ten. No excuses… yes… wonderful, I’m glad we could come to this arrangement.” Yuri stood from the windowsill, his mouth hanging open in utter shock and disbelief. Was Yakov talking to Otabek? Did he really just arrange a date for him?

 

Yuri stepped ran forward and grabbed the phone from Yakov’s hand, checking the call history to see that it was indeed Otabek he had just called, and stared at his coach in bewilderment. Yakov smirked, who would have thought, Yuri Plisetsky speechless of all things.

“Did you… did you just?”

“You better be ready by eight wearing something nice, I didn’t raise you a slob… You can go on your date.” Yuri’s face brightened, and Yakov swore he felt his heart swell in his chest in seeing that wide smile. Yuri tightened arms around Yakov’s middle and squeezed hard.

“Thank you, Yakov!” Yakov coughed uncomfortably, placing his arms around the boy, who really wasn’t a boy anymore.

“Alright, alright, don’t go crushing my ribcage. I’m too old for this.” Yuri let go and flitted around the room and through his cupboard for something to wear. He was a notorious over packer, always exceeding the weight limit at airports. He held up various clothing items for Yakov’s approval.

“What about this one!?”

“Are you kidding? It makes you look like a punk. At least wear a tie, you’re a gentleman.”

“This one?”

“That tie is hideous, burn it.” The conversation went back and forth until Yuri had an outfit. The conversation switched direction.

“Can I ride Otabek’s motorbike?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Why!?”  Yakov could feel the vein popping in his forehead, but as he looked on at an excited Yuri Plisetsky, he felt a warmth in his belly. Raising children had not been a choice he was prepared for, and he had messed up countless times, tonight included. However, he saw a side of his charges today that made him think they’d grown into young men he could be proud of. His Vitya was a grown man now, and so wise and kind despite all adversity in his youth, and his Yuri, while having the Feltsman temper, was driven and determined.

 

Yakov had no doubt that even after he was gone, the men he helped raise, the men he considered his sons, would continue to make him proud.    

 


End file.
